


Afterwards

by 0ThatFanGirl0



Series: Wraith X Nurse [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dead by Daylight fan fic, F/M, Fanfiction, Fluffiness, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I’m sorry, Oneshot, Philip can’t talk, Philip has Entity issues, Realistic, Requests, Romance, Sally is allowed sight, So so sorry, The Entity is Letting This Happen, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Violence, and, fluff overload, taking requests, wraithxnurse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 13:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0ThatFanGirl0/pseuds/0ThatFanGirl0
Summary: Time outside the Trials isn't unheard of in the Entity's realm but for two killers, they decide that spending time together is a new favorite pastime.A/N: No lemon, just fluff! It's a one-shot by a long shot! :D





	Afterwards

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Dead by Daylight or the characters.

A/N: 'First he bangs the bell, then he bangs your lady as well.' - Dead by Daylight forums.

 

 

If it weren't for his fifth trial, Philip would've called it quits by now, his breathing is ragged- more then usual, his weapon is a bloody mess. Something that has to be constantly cleaned during a chase and after a trial, and above all of this- his poncho is crooked- something he doesn't tolerate. It was that survivor that did it... Meg, was it? Oh, yes. He knows their names, nearly all of their names.

 

It isn't something to forget but that means nothing when hunting down his prey. The scepter is caked in both dry and fresh blood. His grip faltering as soon as the latest trial ended, his snarls soften- replacing them with heavy breathing. He's called back to the bonfire, the familiar limbs of the Entity wisp up and round his form. Like a serpent, it envelopes him completely, a dark mist surrounds him as his entire world around him dissipates.

 

He takes a seat on a log far away from the others and stares ahead into the burning flames. The others know not to bother him, the wrath beneath his mud caked skin is a thing that not even their god would want to provoke from the being. Something that has been suppressed from a time that's been forgotten, only small fragments of his memory bubble beneath the surface. Even Philip can't discern between what was real and what this Entity has replaced, he loathes the time between waiting here for the next trial. Whenever he's pulled from the fire and brought forth into another killers domain, he grins in the darkness.

 

For now, the warmth of the fire calms him, its embers rise and fall around the flames. His breathing has softened to a contented purr- something akin to one. The One Who Floats- a brave one she is- makes her way over to his log. She says nothing, her head lolling downward towards her neck and the stare she gives him is typical behavior. Curling his fingers around the scepter, his grip tightens once again, not deterred from harming her if she dares to get too close.

 

His mouth opens in a silent growl, she raises her hacksaw, as if to challenge the other. The strike never arrives, they stare each other down, their glowering faces unwavering. Bringing the weapon to his side, he lets out a signature snarl, and that sends her away. Her form disappearing in a blink as he watches to ensure she doesn't return. Evan- the one who traps his prey, also stares ahead into the fire.

 

His eyes dart between the fire and Evan, fingers digging into the rotting wood beneath him from the tension. These two have challenged each other ever since they've arrived in this realm. He wonders how long he's been here, time has no meaning, and he's long since abandoned the thought of time here. Setting the weapon down beside him, he stands, his bones making a sickly crack, and the wrappings below sway with his movements. His cloak ruffles against his skin- if that truly is what's left of his humanity, then he's unsure of it.

 

The Wraith reaches for the storage pouch on his right side, opening it and grabbing a small vial of paint. The aged glass no longer holds a reflection as he brings it towards his face and examines it. A ritualistic white paint, something that has been long forgotten. It's to hopefully aid him in his trials, one thing the Entity finds to be a tedious and useless task. Placing bony fingers over the topper, he twists and gently tugs at the thing.

 

It easily opens, taking his seat back down on the log and dipping both index and middle fingers into the bottle. Scraping along its edge to bring forth a long strip of the paint, he brings the paint to his face and examines it again. It both fascinates and excites him, opening his mouth to let out a few excited chitters. The One Who Traps watches him with interest- no matter how many times he's seen the spectacle before him, he's always watched. Dragging his fingers along the entirety of his face, he swipes the paint from forehead to below the chin.

 

Kneeling over the edge, he purposefully digs his fingers into the dry dirt, removing all traces of the paint. He sits back, grabbing ahold of the topper beside him and replacing it back over the vial. Carefully restoring it in the storage pouch on his side, a soft purr escapes his lips, he opens his mouth- as if to speak, but says nothing. The freedom of speaking in this realm isn't allowed, the god-like being would never give the luxury of such a thing. That is something Philip has no choice in, the Entity forcefully removed his tongue long ago.

 

The first half of the fleshy muscle is completely gone, scars litter the entirety of his lips. His hands and feet are forever covered in the blood of Azarov- his boss from a life long since forgotten. The One Who Traps gets up from his place, readying his cleaver and standing far back from the bonfire. In an instantaneous moment, his form is surrounded by the same dark mist and limbs, and then... nothing. The cloak is heavily soiled, the wrappings are far from sanitary- covered in dirt as well, the paint on his face has already dried.

 

Placing his hands within his lap, Philip awaits his next trial- whenever that will be. Picking up his scepter, he mimics a groan- but it sounds like a horrible choking sound, spliced and cut up. Seeing that woman with the strange thing enveloping her face is someone he doesn't want to bump into. Opening the storage pouch on his left side, he retrieves the Wailing Bell, his source of power and the one thing that allows him to travel within the spirit world. Clutching his prized possession, he emits soft chirps, tracing his index finger along the strange, ritualistic markings over the body of the bell.

 

No one else walks over to the fire, he is left alone and waiting for the next trial. Just as he's about to lose his patience, The Entity beckons him, whispers and mist fill the atmosphere around him. The Wraith doesn't waste time, quickly standing to his feet and grasping both scepter and bell. Those same limbs whirl and wrap around his slender frame, and for a moment- he's lifted off of the ground.

 

His feet softly make contact with the ground beneath him, the air here smells like gasoline, oil, and metal. Nostrils flare in order for him to take in all of his surroundings, he can sense the others here already, and it disgusts him. He will not displease The Entity this trial, to say the last punishment he received was severe is quite the understatement. Raising the heavy cast iron bell, he briefly examines it and smiles- nearly getting off track with the task at hand. Clasping it on the side of his imitation of a utility belt, Philip heads off towards the gas station.

 

A generator can be heard nearby and he makes his way into the entrance and over in the garage. Quickly raising the bell and uncloaking, the ringing alerts his prey- causing them to gasp and falter in their movements. They know better then to invoke his wrath, hearing the story from the one named Kate Denson- she was a blubbering mess by the time her horrific story met its end. They are not survivors to him, merely prey and bountiful sacrifices to appease his god. The one named Feng Min stands to her feet, but she only makes about five feet before the teeth of Azarov's spine collide with her own.

 

She hollers out in pain, and Philip rips the weapon out of her- small chunk of flesh, her shirt, and blood cover the vertebrae. Her screams intensify and she limps off and out of the gas station, hopefully putting distance between her and the killer. With a heavy snarl, The Wraith raises the bell and cloaks again, his feet carrying him out of the building in a burning rage. He won't risk losing the chase, climbing over the tall mound of rock in the center of the area and leaping off, the weapon raised high above his head. His face contorts into one that matches his rage, feet thudding against the ground as he lands and resumes the chase.

 

The prey looks over her shoulder, sweat beading across her forehead and her face is a mix of determination and fear. She runs around a pallet- hoping to stun him when he follows and once he does- she slams it down on him. He uncloaks, sending her a death glare and a loud growl her way. Raising a foot and bringing it down into the rotting wood, he breaks it with alarming force- causing it to break in just one stomp. The prey is far ahead and he continues after her, his grip on his scepter tightening, and his breathing is quick.

 

Feng runs the killer around a pile of tires, his scepter missing a hit and he lets out another growl, parting his lips to bare his teeth. Turning to give him the runaround once again, the prey throws her head back in a victory chuckle, mocking him. But simply scaring her is not what's planned, the Entity's whisper travels through Philip's ear. Giving him a course of action that'll win the god within his favor, Philip cuts her off from her path, her legs trembling from the constant running. This one is nothing like the athletic one- the one who taunts him the most with her burst of sprint and insults.

 

Still, there is a daunting task that needs to be done- it's a hunger, one that will never satisfy the forever empty pit that is Philip's stomach. Sustenance is no problem for the other hunters as far as he knows, but for him, it's an entire different feeling. The constant gnawing hunger for both food and drink leaves him desperate. That being said- hunting in the woods outside of the trials is always something he looks forward to. The One Who Traps has even allowed him to use one of his very own traps.

 

Although, Philip had no experience whatsoever on how to work the strange contraption, he wasn't unfamiliar on what it was. Evan once had to help him out of one trap due to Philip’s fault- he had accidentally snapped the trap over his own slender ankle. The bones nearly breaking in two, causing a broken series of cries to leave The Wraiths throat. That led to an unwanted medical incident, one where he was practically rushed over to the domain where The One Who Floats resided in. Truth be told, it was a fault on his own, but to have to see her is something he never wanted.

 

Both Evan and Philip were nearly sacrificed- until The Entity intervened and forced Sally to heal Philip to the best of her half forgotten abilities. At least she has what's left of her memories from her past life. It's as if nearly all memories from their past lives have been erased and replaced with something else. What's left are fractured memories, there is no dreaming here, and sleeping only draws those who try to 'sleep' into the bloodweb. Even then, the fractured memories feel manipulated and unreal- almost like a dream.

 

It surges pain through his head if he even thinks about it, and he thinks that it's The Entity's doing, something that keeps all of the hunters from accessing the memories. He loses his prey completely and rings the bell twice to cloak once more, moving along towards another generator. Focusing is a main goal here and he knows that if he doesn't sacrifice at least one of his prey, the punishment for him will be unthinkable. A man runs away from a generator, a device held within his hand that Philip is all too familiar with. The thing that blinds him and severed his connection with the spirit world too many times before.

 

It's something that he finds most unpleasant to deal with, let alone chasing down prey that carry the thing with them. The man with the scruffy hair points the device directly in his direction, causing him to uncloak. He lets out a snarl, reaching a hand out towards the prey, his slender fingers grab ahold of the jacket, the man gives a hard tug and runs off. Philip gives chase, vaulting over a pallet and nearly missing a swing at the man. Hearing a shout, the Wraith tumbles to the ground, letting out what sounds like a cross between a gasp and growl.

 

"Go! Run, Ace!" Someone else shouts, their hands grabbing ahold of the Wraith's arms, keeping him to the ground. It only lasts for a few seconds though, as he struggles against their hold, trying to stand back on his feet. Whoever it is, they're strong, the weight barring him from moving any further. The scepter lies only a couple inches away, if only he could reach it...

 

Another figure appears beside his form, screeching along with heavy breathing fill the air around him. It's that one who approached him earlier. She's going to sacrifice them as her own, isn't she?! He won't have that, not at all. He feels a foot violently kick at the person holding him down, and turns his face to the side to let out a loud snarl.

 

The elbows of the person dig into Philip's stomach, causing Philip to thrash about. Again, she gives the survivor another hard kick, successfully urging them to stumble to their feet and run off. Bending down to his level, she gradually offers him a hand, bits of skin exposing the power of Spencer's Last Breath. Without a second to spare, he huffs and takes her hand in his, jumping back onto his own two feet. Standing back, The Nurse floats onward in the direction Ace ran off to, but The Wraith stops her.

 

Reaching a hand out with an iron vice grip, his fingers slipping around the rotting flesh and tugging The Nurse towards him. She turns her head, trying to pull her hand away but fails. The Wraith glares, making a chittering sound and hoping that she understands that this prey is his. Tilting her head in mock confusion and ripping her hand out of his grasp, she floats away from the other to pursue the survivor. He raises the bell, ringing it twice to cloak and follows her, practically on her heels.

 

Knowing that the survivors heard the bell, he keeps a watchful eye on the killer before him. The whispers echo through his ears and mind, surrounding him and fluctuating in volume.

 

Follow. Cooperate with her and you will be rewarded.

 

It's as if his ears perked up at that information, he lets out a few excited trills, but working with another killer angers him. She halts in her tracks, causing Philip to bump into her back. He stumbles a little and takes a few steps back, waiting for her. She turns her head at him and offers a hand, a nod, and he swears that the pillow case has creased where her mouth should be. Is she... smiling at him?

 

That unsettles him and he's unsure of whether she's actually smiling under that thing, or if the Entity has something to do with it. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out, still cloaked, and grasps it with an all too tight grip. With her leading the way, he makes another sound akin to a soft growl. Are any survivors near? The Nurse answers that question for him, raising a hand out and using Spencer's Last Breath.

 

Being yanked along with her startled him, he should be used to her power by now. With a hand raised, he brings the bell forward and rings it, promptly uncloaking and looking around. Sally mimics his movements, lowering her hand as her eyes dart back and forth from him and the set of tires in front of them. Walking around the set of tires, Philip turns his head around to look behind him. Was that sound the snap of a twig?

 

His feet carry him over to a shrub, this would be a perfect hiding place for his prey. Sally places a hand over his cloak, giving the heavy cloth a firm tug. This startles him and he turns to face her, a look of surprise crosses his face, opening his mouth to make a soft snarl. She floats back, taking the equivalent of one step, and lifts a hand to point over to a boulder in the distance. Another good hiding place for prey, he makes his way over there, weapon raised and ready to strike.

 

One survivor is found, this one wearing a plaid shirt and hat, and she's fumbling with the contents of a medkit. Gasping, she makes brief eye contact with the Wraith, and tries to stand to her feet. He stops her by bringing the weapon down on her shoulder, the teeth of the spine digging into her flesh. Bits of it along with blood cover the thing when he rips it out of her to strike her again. Her screams echo across the area, the prey is crawling her way towards another set of tires but it's too far away for her.

 

This time it lands across her shoulder blade and back, sending her flopping to the ground, her hands grasping and clutching the grass beneath her. Maybe someone else heard her screams and will come running to her rescue? Hopefully so... Sally floats on over towards them, her bone saw raised as she lowers to the survivors level. Flipping her over, she lowers her body, placing both hands over the survivors neck and squeezing. The person kicks at the Nurse, gasping and clawing at her hands, desperately trying to free herself from the killers grasp.

 

Giving a familiar tilt of his head, Philip pushes Sally off, giving the prey false hope and watching them as they turn over on their back and begin to crawl away. Sally gives a soft sigh, taking her place by Philip and waiting to see what he does. Bending down to grab at her ankle, the Wraith drags the survivor back, raising the scepter again and bringing it down on her own spine. Sickening cracks can be heard as he continues to thrash it against the exposed flesh, he stops after a few more strikes, looking up at the sky and smiling.

 

 

 

 

Thirty minutes later...

 

The last survivor looks back over their shoulder, limping onward past the exit gate, thankful to live another day. Both killers exchange glances with each other, lowering their weapons and awaiting their reward from the Entity. Philip walks away, heading back over to the gas station and sighing. All but one survivor had perished this trial, the last one only got lucky due to juking both of the killers. They were the one who had the device that blinds them.

 

He loathes the thing, quick to take down any others who carry it with swift action. Sally floats beside him, from this view he can see that her legs are bound and sort of mangled. She catches his stare and sets her weapon on a boulder beside the two, they both make their way into the gas station. Philip saunters over behind the counter, his scepter now lying on the counter before him, he wonders what the reward is. Is it some sort of killer death match against each other?

 

That would explain why she showed up during his trial, hunting down his prey, and offering her mori for him to see. It isn't something he's used to seeing, in fact, the only mori he has seen is his own. The Entity's whispers return, offering an answer to his question.

 

Your reward for showing exceptional skill alongside another killer is... her.

 

Oh.

 

He does seem to understand what the god means, what they are implying. Sally seems to have gotten the information before him because she leans over the counter, placing a hand over his own. Her breathing is its usual wheezing and difficult, his is ragged and quiet. Of course, he tilts his head in that usual fashion, he opens his mouth as if to say something, but the soft sound of a purr escapes him. The cloth around her mouth creases into a smile, she backs away and floats on over behind the counter.

 

The Wraith emits another soft purr, raising a hand to his cloak and fixing it for the time being. The Nurse inches closer to him, her hand placed over his own once again and rests her head against his chest. When he doesn't back away, she takes this as an opportunity to place her other hand over his shoulder, he stiffens slightly. Hesitantly bringing both arms to wrap around her form, pressing his body against her own in a hug. Her smile doesn't waver, they stay like this for a few minutes until Philip nudges her to break contact.

 

They make eye contact, Philip walking over to the nearest wall and leaning against it. Sally follows after him, mimicking his motions and leaning against the wall beside him. He's unsure of what to do, this isn't a necessity for the both of them but the spider-crab thing in the sky seems amused by the whole situation. Sitting down on the floor of the gas station, Philip looks up and gives a nod of approval. She follows suit and rests her head against his, her hand intertwining with his own and the warmth of her body brings his cheeks to a light tinge of pink.

 

His purring resumes, his chest rumbling with content as he takes this moment to close his eyes. Closing her eyes, her smile falters, and they both fall into unconsciousness.

 

Twenty minutes later...

 

Offering a slight yawn and a soft groan, the Wraith slowly opens his eyes. Has a trial started? He looks to his left to see that she is still sleeping, he can't bring himself to wake her. A sort of psychotic smile spreads across his lips as he brings a hand over her cloth. He wants to see what she looks like underneath it all. Feeling the material between two fingers, he gives it a tug and attempts to pull at it. A sudden loud growl falls from her lips, another sound of protest as she lifts her head to give him a shove.

 

It takes her a few seconds to realize what he wants, she nods, gasping softly as she brings both hands to the back of her neck. Never having shown her face to anyone in this realm before, she seems hesitant, wondering if he will look away once she does this. Untying the various strings behind her, she takes her time to be sure she doesn't damage the material, and completely pulls it up and over her entire head. From what he can see, her hair is a light red colour, her eyes are bruised and sewn shut. Her mouth has a scar that runs across her lips, she opens it to reveal a normal looking tongue.

 

Looking away from him in shame, she sets the cloth beside her on the floor and lets out a heavy rasp. He leans over to look at her, bringing a hand beneath her chin, his fingers softly brushing along her skin as he gently pulls her back to look at him. Nuzzling her neck and offering a few soft kisses, he tries to make her understand that he isn't disgusted or ashamed. A few soft whimpers and strokes underneath her chin bring another smile to her face. Her skin is a ghostly pale and is covered in bruises and scars, she gives him a soft nudge, prompting him to halt his movements.

 

Moving away and raising a hand to her hair, he pets the soft strands and keeps quiet. His fingers threading between the strands with each stroke, she doesn't make any hostile moves, and instead, places her hands within her lap. Sitting up straight, Philip continues to pet her hair, enjoying the moment. There's a thud near them and Philip lets out a loud growl, quickly standing to his feet and moving his hands away from her hair. He stands before her, his eyes darting from the open doorway and the shelf in the far right corner. The weapon sits on the floor, his eyes soften once he realizes that the sound must've been from the weapon falling off of the counter.

 

Picking the thing up and placing it back on the counter, he makes sure that it's sitting atop of the papers littered here. Turning around to take his place beside her, he bumps into her, his head pushing against her chest. Cheeks quickly turn to a deep shade of red as he takes a step back and utters a few gasps, bringing his hands forward to offer a mock apology. She lifts a hand over her mouth and mimics a giggle, her shoulders shaking as she falls to her knees in silent laughter. Unsure of what's happening, he's quick to bend down and wrap an arm around her waist to help her stand.

 

Soft trills and a gasp leave him as he looks her over with a look crossing between both confusion and concern. Once he's sure that she's alright, he watches her with interest. she's calmed down now. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she gives him a nod and smiles, her hair flowing behind her in waves as she floats away from behind the counter. She glances around and takes this opportunity to look around this place, after all, she's been here but she's never had the chance to look at things up close.

 

 

 

 

An hour has passed and both haven't heard the familiar whispers, they're unsure of what to do next. Is the next trial coming soon? Have they amused their strange god-like being? When she's unsure of her next course of action, Sally floats on outside of the gas station, looking over at a high pile of cars. Following closely behind her, Philip presses his body against her back, wrapping both arms around her waist and resting his head over her shoulder.

 

Tilting her head up, Sally smiles, standing there and sighing with content. He's not sure when he'll see her in the next trial, or if this will even happen again. Moving away from her and unwrapping his arms; Philip turns to face her with a soft trill. She turns to face him as well, tilting her head to look up at him, her fingers toying with the thick material of the cloak. Leaning in and lowering his face to her own, he places two fingers beneath her chin and offers a kiss. His lips, she notices, are chapped and dry, hers are soft and scarred.

 

A second passes and he breaks contact, awkwardly standing there and letting his arms fall to his side. Perhaps he'll get used to this strange feeling fluttering within his chest, the ever reddening of his cheeks, and small sparks of hope that he'll see her again within his next trial. Hunting along side her has been an interesting experience to watch. Her techniques of catching and sacrificing survivors prove that he has plenty to learn. If the Entity allows it, he might have a chance at requesting her to be by his side during every trial of his.

 

 

 

 

Another smile crosses his features, his eyes close as he looks towards the sky, her hand lowers to his side and intertwines with his own once more. Sally glances up at the sky as well, wondering what he's looking at, she imitates him. The whispers soon return, both killers stiffen to listen, their eyes snap open.

 

The next trial begins. She will not be joining you.

 

 

 

 

Somehow, that doesn't surprise Philip, but it does anger him. To know that she won't be by his side within the next trial, or possibly in any of his trials brings forth a sudden rush of both possessiveness and protection. She notices immediately that he's tense, his chest rising and falling, his eyes slightly narrowed, his mouth open in what looks to be a silent scream. This isn't something he's dealt with before and the new feelings that are now being taken away causes a sort of anguish. To be allowed a moment of reprieve (Despite not sacrificing the last survivor.) to be able to discover these strange, new feelings, and to be able to spend time with another killer who he once despised fills him with Immense joy.

 

For the first time, he looks to her and smiles, showing off his many rows of teeth. The Wraith looks like a cross between a man who once had a hopeful life that quickly took an unexpected, and unforeseen turn for the worse. A cross between a human and what the Entity has mutilated him to be, a beast, a hunter of prey. A creature who carries the Wailing Bell, its ringing a bad omen. He hopes he gets to see her again, his smile fades into a look of sadness.

 

Sally gives an understanding nod, her dress flowing with her as she reenters the gas station. Instead of following in after her, Philip lowers his head in sorrow, knowing that her time to leave his domain is near. Minutes pass and she exits with her cloth wrapped over her head, one of her hands are closed, carrying something as she makes her way back over to him. He notices that her other hand is clutching a piece of paper, turning his back to face her and making eye contact. Outstretching both hands to him, she offers him the paper first, opening her other hand to reveal a small pink carnation.

 

It is not a dead plant, the paper she hands to him has something written over it. Gently reaching outward, he grabs ahold of the sheet and brings it to his face to read it. Although the ability to speak has been taken away, his ability to read hasn't escaped him at all. He's often read books from both the MacMillan Estate and the scattered books laying about in this very gas station. The Nurse watches him with unwavering attention, her head tilts to the side, imitating him.

 

 

 

 

Philip, take this plant as a token of my gratitude. Our time spent today during the trial and afterwards was quite the experience. If the Entity allows it, I hopefully look forward to our next meeting. Perhaps we can discuss various techniques to hunt the survivors? It was quite the amusement to see the expression on your face after the event of my memento mori.

 

This has been quite the turn of events.

 

Regards, Sally.

 

 

 

 

At first, he was sure that she loathed him, now he's certain that is no longer the case. He brings both plant and letter to his chest, his face beaming, letting out excited trills. She watches him and clasps both hands together in a show of affection, her hands move to pull her cloth past her lips. Raising a hand to his cheek, her knuckles brush along his jawline as she presses her body against his. Her lips ghost over his own, taking a moment to softly press them against his chapped ones. They both close their eyes, knowing that the time for her to leave is here.

 

A loud whoosh is heard across the map, the howling of the Entity fills the killers ears, and a dark mist surrounds Sally. The faint heartbeat thumping against Philip's chest quickens, he reaches a hand out to hers, but it seems to phase through. Unwillingly, Sally floats on over to the previously opened exit gate, her weapon replaced within her right hand. With the Wailing Bell replaced by his left side, he heads back into the gas station to retrieve his weapon, setting both paper and plant down on the counter. He swiftly making his way out and over to her. Unfortunately, he has nothing to give to her in return, no kind of parting gift of sorts.

 

The heartbeat lowers to its usual faint thumping, he hopes he can give her at least something else. Standing in front of her, he rests his forehead against her own, a parting goodbye. She seems to accept this, her cloth creasing into another smile as she floats onward and out of the exit. The mist seems to have dissipated completely, and the Wraith watches her figure until she is no longer within his domain. Autohaven Wreckers returns to its usual lonely atmosphere.

 

 

 

 

Bending downward to set the scepter on the ground, Philip lets out a soft whimper. Raising both hands to his chest over his own heart, he brings both hands to cup them in the shape of a heart. His mouth forming a small 'o', mouthing the words that were rarely used in a life that has been lost and forgotten.

 

 

 

 

"I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading and the kudos! If you want to read more in regards to this ship, leave a comment. <3


End file.
